


Of Calamine Lotion and Other Calamities of Sex

by Trista_zevkia



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Time, M/M, Medical Kink, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's hiding something. What's new about that? It's his dick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Calamine Lotion and Other Calamities of Sex

Sherlock came and went as he pleased, and when he was home he flopped about the furniture like he had deleted the proper use of it. As such, John felt he could be forgiven for not immediately noticing something was off. Finally it sank in that Sherlock was being careful where he sat and how he moved. Trying to find a way to breach the subject tactfully could take ages, but John wasn’t above being impolite in the pursuit of health needs. Sherlock was above being polite.

“Sherlock, why are you walking around like you’re wearing a diaper and sitting like you’ve filled one?” 

“I am not.” Sherlock almost yelled, but didn’t rise from the couch in protestation, as he normally would. 

John stared. 

Sherlock stared back. 

John didn’t back down about Sherlock’s health. Ever. 

Sherlock accepted this axiom, and relented. “I am experiencing some discomfort related to last night’s activities, but I am confident it will pass.” 

“Just because I was at the surgery is no reason to do something stupid, you know.” John remarked because he was a sucker for no-win cases. 

“I thought this experiment through very carefully, John.” 

Even if he name was synonymous with ‘you idiot’ when said in that way, John stood and commanded. “Go to your room, strip, and wait for me.” 

Sherlock looked torn, probably between his desire for relief and need to hide what he’d been up to. John took pity on the idiot genius and used his coldest command voice. 

“We do this here, or there, but it gets done.” 

Sherlock tried to pull his dignity around him with his housecoat, a familiar movement destroyed by his inability to sit on his plush arse. 

John took a moment to remind himself to stop using ‘plush’ to describe his flatmate’s arse or lips. Not thinking about the arse and lips was impossible, so John needed to be more clinical about the anatomy involved. Figuring Sherlock had enough of a head start, John went to get one of his many stashed medical kits. They said ‘first aid’ on the front, but each one had been specialized for Sherlock’s sundry needs. First aid was to keep the patient alive long enough to for profession help to arrive; John was Sherlock’s professional help. 

Carrying the kit into Sherlock’s room, John was kind of relieved that Sherlock’s arse wouldn’t be denting his professionalism just yet: naked Sherlock had flopped on his bed and covered his posterior plushness with a sheet. John’s jeans would be a little tighter for a while, but in a low burn of want instead of the blood derailing fire of an erection. Turning on all the lights and opening the window would hopefully provide him with enough light. Sitting next to Sherlock, John carefully pulled back the sheet. 

Sherlock had buried his head in his arms before John entered the room, and was pretending to be in his mind palace for this exam. As such, he missed the way John’s face twisted in confusion before digging his pen light and gloves out of his med kit. A trail of red seemed to be coming out of that plushness of many fantasies, so John put on his gloves and gently pulled those cheeks apart. All the plushness was swollen and red, including his anus. John traced the redness down and out, and found he needed to see Sherlock’s front. 

“Rollover.” He said, with a gentle poke to the hip he wanted to move. 

Sherlock hesitated, apparently thinking he could ignore this request. 

Hand on hip and torso, John flipped the man. It wasn’t the gentlest way to go about it, but it worked on battlefields of all kinds. Sherlock’s penis was indeed red and swollen, and not in a sexy way. 

“Sherlock, I need to know what you were doing so I can make a reasonable diagnosis.” John tried for reasonable and scientific; attitudes that were most likely to get a response out of Sherlock. 

“Even in your professional capacity, you still don’t _see_.”

“I know what I think I see, but aside from the fact I’ve never known you to do that, I need the specifics to determine what’s going on here.” 

“I had sex, John. Went out on the pull and tried to fuck somebody. When I got bored, I let him him fuck me. Happy?” 

“No, not really.” John tried hard not to focus on what he did feel, under the surprise. Jealousy wasn’t really his thing, as he genuinely wanted his ex’s to be happy, but he recognized the emotion instantly. “Did you use condoms, plural?” 

“You mean, did I take the condom off my dick and allow him to stick it in my arse?” 

“Not exactly, but that sort of thing. Condoms should be changed between being used in different orifices, even mouth to vagina or anus.” 

“Thank you for stating the obvious, Dr. Watson. Now fix it.” Flinging his arm across his eyes punctuated this dramatic command nicely. 

John fought the urge to forcibly remove Sherlock’s arm from his face, and maybe from his body. “First glance, it looks like an allergic contact dermatitis. Are you allergic to sperm?” 

“I’m only allergic, wait, what?” Sherlock looked up from under his arm, completely distracted. 

John grinned, knowing new information would get him. “It is possible for people to be allergic to sperm, other people’s and their own.” 

“Why? It’s produced by the body.” With that Sherlock’s mind was occupied, even if he didn’t have enough information to carry into his mind palace. 

“So, last night,” John asked softly, so as not to distract Sherlock from his thinking. “Did you get any sperm on you?” 

“No. He came in the condom, I didn’t ejaculate.” 

“Are you allergic to anything?” He’d asked about medicines before, but hadn’t specifically asked about every known allergen in the universe. That might be about to bite him in the arse: he knew Sherlock didn’t have much in the way of self-preservation instincts. 

“Just latex gloves.” Sherlock waved this away as unimportant, next to the discovery of semen allergies. 

John reached down, grabbed both bony shoulders and shook the idiot. 

“What?” Said idiot asked, as if he was put out by John’s manner. 

“What do you think condoms are made out of?” 

There was a suspiciously long pause before Sherlock replied. “Plastic?” 

John slapped his own forehead and made a whimpering noise. A deep inhale, exhale, and John found a way to explain it. “Sherlock, have you heard condoms called rubbers?” 

“Street slang.” 

“Historical term.” John shot back. “As mass produced condoms were originally made of rubber, which in its chemical formula is call…?”

“Latex.” Sherlock muttered, embarrassed and insulted that he’d missed the obvious. He perked up quickly though, to ask. “So this isn’t a part of having sex?” 

“Oh, god, Sherlock, no, this isn’t normal.” John fought the desire to cuddle his genius idiot; the pain and swelling would be enough to turn anyone against sex. Pulling out some supplies, John began to talk his way through this. “You’ve showered, so that washed off the irritants, and we only have to fix the symptoms. Antihistamine pills and a corticosteroid cream will do that.” 

“I can take pills and apply cream myself.” Sherlock snapped, flipping the sheet over his swollen member. 

“Right, as I shouldn’t touch you with my latex gloves. I’ll trade them out for latex free ones at the clinic. Is this why you use those reusable gloves for you chemistry?” 

“Buying reusable gloves left me more money for chemicals to experiment with.” 

John nodded, stripped off his gloves and got ready to leave the room. “To avoid this in the future, use latex free condoms, or only have sex with one person.” 

“Please, you’re the only one who can stand to stay with me; how I am I supposed to find yet another person to have sex with?” 

John paused in the door, trying to shove past the lump of words stuck in his throat. Behind him, Sherlock was taking the cap off the tube and squirting the cream out. A very unsexy image, unless one replaced ‘cream’ with ‘lube’ and John’s brain settled in for a long period of not having much blood. It did him proud though, by offering up one articulate sentence. 

“I could be convinced to accommodate you in that, as it lines up with my own secret desires.” 

There was a long pause, and John felt as if every cell in his body was paused, listening for the answer. It was a good thing, because the deep voice was so low it was almost lower than human hearing and sent all of John’s blood to his cock. 

“Prove it.” 

John turned, stripping off his jeans as he faced Sherlock, showing off his Pavlovian response to most anything Sherlock did. Sherlock wasn’t helping, having thrown the sheet off so he could spread cream over his erect and painful looking cock. Medical training kicked and John started thinking again. Sort of. 

“Latex hands touch be worse.” 

“What a conundrum.” Sherlock purred. 

“Wash.” John grunted. Leave room, wash hands, return. But, Sherlock, naked, aroused, stroking. Can’t leave. Not missing this. Stripping off his jumper, John managed to articulate his well thought out plan and pull his cock out of his pants. “Shower later.” 

Hand on his cock, John watched what Sherlock was doing, matching him stroke for stroke, but adding his own twists when needed. John noticed that Sherlock was watching, trying John’s twists and rubs out on his own cock. John noticed that, but thinking about it was for later. For now, he was stuck on Sherlock watching him masturbate. 

“Glorious.” Sherlock said, and John came, splattering into his bunched up trousers and Sherlock’s floor. 

The orgasm shut John’s eyes, and by the time he’d forced them open, Sherlock had come. John leaned against the door and panted for a while, Sherlock doing much the same except in a much more comfortable position. Finally, John got it together enough to speak. 

“Right. I should shower, clean the floor, and then we can…” do it again, his brain screamed. “Talk, make sure we’re on the same page with this.” 

Sherlock looked disappointed, as if he expected cuddling from the guy who hadn’t even touched him out of concern for his health. John thought about the look. 

“You need to shower too, since I examined you with the latex gloves.” He smiled, hoping Sherlock could read his mind about this as well. “Want to share the hot water?” 

“You’ll help me reapply the cream?” 

“Of course.” 

“And tell me all about semen allergies?” His dark voice was back into the purr of ‘prove it’. 

John laughed. “I’ll even test you for one.” 

Sherlock was on his feet and into the bathroom while John was still struggling out of his jeans and shoes. He wondered if Sherlock had a medical kink, and decided it would be exciting to find out. 

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ S<3J ˥(?)ל


End file.
